One Day, The Life We Have, Will Be Gone
by 07bumblebee07
Summary: Fight to survive. Survive to Fight. Jack has lived alone for years, surviving the Eradication. The End Of The World. But after a fateful encounter, that is all about to change…
1. Chapter One

_A NEW FANFICTION! (And before I finished my others... shit)_

 _Set in an apocalyptic world. I wanted Zombies (and yes I have already started writing that one too - double shit) but then came up with this idea instead. Well, it was meant to be Zombies, but it grew legs and ran away. As do many of my stories._

 _Anyways. Enjoy xxx_

* * *

 **One Day, The Life We Have, Will Be Gone**

 **Chapter One:** Surviving Alone, In A Broken World

 **Jack**

The boy held his gun closer to his chest, the cool of the metal pressed against his clammy skin as he rested his back on the car he had taken shelter behind.  
He had been running too long, his food supplies depleted to merely half a loaf of bread and an apple that was so over ripe, it had gone soft in places.  
But the boy couldn't be picky. He was in a world of live or die.

 _Fight to survive. Survive to fight._

Jack sighed, letting his head rest against the car door. He hated being so tense, so cautious. But it helped him survive. He had to keep on his feet, never linger and travel lightly. It had kept Jack alive this long.  
Why should his life change now, just because he wanted to internally complain about it?  
It wouldn't. Complaining was pointless. All it did was mentally drain him and pull his focus from more pressing matters. _Like surviving…_

Jack laid his gun beside him, pulling off his backpack to root around for more bullets. Since his recent skirmish with the Rift, Jack hadn't had the chance to reload. And the stupid incident of not double checking for the guards had landed him in a whole lot of trouble, besides just being noticed by the armed men stood on watch around the perimeter.  
He only managed to smuggle out three stocks of medicine and bandages as well as three rounds of sniper ammo and a carton of shotgun shells. Not Jack's most successful infiltration mission, but at least he wasn't seriously injured. Or dead. _Yet._

This time was close. His leather jacket had two bullets imbedded in the padding and there was a graze somewhere on his right thigh from a sniper shot that had got a little too close for comfort. But the chase wasn't over yet.

The Rift were still hunting him.

Nightmare soldiers dressed in black, their faces hidden behind masks, like monsters. _Monsters._ Because they were no longer human. They were just mindless zombies doing their master's bidding. Through fear. Not loyalty. No one was dark and twisted enough to follow him because they respected him. Because they understood his views, because they too wanted what he wanted…

Pitch Black.

Jack sighed again, grumbling out loud about how far he'd led the Rift on a wild goose chase. He half regretted blowing up his truck, but the thing was on its last legs anyway. And it had provided the perfect distraction to escape. Maybe even the Rift thought he was dead.  
No. Jack knew better.  
The Rift would've figured out there was no body. They may have even realised that the blood wasn't Jack's, that it was in fact just an animal he had killed, just to help set up his trick. And if he hadn't gone so far off the beaten track, he would have led the soldiers back to his hideout. Jack knew that it was his best option, but that didn't stop him from being tired and as worn out as he was. Scrapes on his hands and knees where he had scrambled up loose shale on the cliff side to make it as hard as he could for them to follow him. Nimbly clambering up trees to reach higher ground, taking a short cut through the freezing river in hopes the Rift would lose his tracks. He may have done, but it had served in exhausting the boy as well. But he had to keep going.

Jack pushed himself off of the car and began to trudge through the abandoned town. The old town, where Jack used to live. Before the Eradication started.

There was nothing in any of these buildings. Jack knew. He was the one that had emptied them all, before he founded the camp with the others. He used to live there, with them all. Even after the wars, Jack's life here, and in camp, had been easy. It was Jack's home…  
But all good things eventually come to an end. Now, the boy explored on his own; monitoring Rift activity, infiltrating checkpoints, ambushing convoys and seeking out survivor populations.

Jack preferred to rely on himself now. He'd rather jump into the fray alone, than with others, whom he was risking their lives. Not like what he used to do, back at camp. Not like the other teams' leaders. They each ran their own teams, four to five people at a time, attacking Rift escorts or exploring new territory. As supplies got less and less, their ambush opportunities became more and more dangerous with each attempt.

Jack hadn't been back to camp for at least a year. Maybe longer. They probably thought he was dead. Or worse, captured by those that hunted him.  
But Jack had his reasons for keeping his distance. It wasn't just hunting down the bastards that had stolen his family, taken his friends…  
His guilt and his shame kept him at bay, but sometimes, when he was close, Jack couldn't help but sneaking back, just to see. Just to check on them.  
 _His family._

Jack shook his head. He couldn't think about that now.  
The boy slung his shotgun onto his back, picking up the pace as he made his way through the silent town. He took every shortcut he knew, jumping fences, slipping down back alleys as he broke into a jog. Street after street, house after house, Jack followed the familiar path as if it he walked it only yesterday. He could've run it with his eyes closed, jumping over the potholes, dodging that cars that hadn't moved.  
The only things that had changed was the grass, the plants, the trees. They had grown, devouring whatever stood in their way. Roots of plants extended across the broken tarmac, acting like trip wires to ensnare victims. Cars were used as supports, their metal enclosed in vines and stems, hidden under blankets of leaves. As if it was trying to hide the destruction.  
Defying Pitch. _As if the earth was fighting back…_

Jack kept going. He found the street he was looking for, jogging down the road to the far end. He was almost home.

At the far end of the street was a house. It hadn't always been Jack's. He didn't know whose it was before the Rift came. But after they did, it was left empty.  
And Jack claimed it. It was close to town, yet it backed straight onto the wilderness. Even the garden had become part of the forest. Trees surrounded it, half obscuring it from the street. It was perfect.  
Jack had rigged the attic so that it wasn't accessible through the main part of the house. He stashed his horde there. Supplies tucked away. A safe house he had set up for when he returned, or if he was passing through.

Jack had safe houses set up all over. One in each town or city he had visited or a random horde hidden somewhere in the wild. But this was Jack's main safe house. In fact, most of the town could be considered his safe house.

Before the End of the World, Jack used to live here.  
Not in town. He used to live in a small little house on the outskirts, just beyond the woods to the East. He lived there, with his mother and little sister. But when the Rift came…

Jack had lost them both.

It had been winter.  
He remembered. The once-pure snow stained with the crimson blood of his family, his own panicked thoughts as he raced out onto the lake to escape the nightmares, the ghosts dressed like shadows.  
He remembered the fear in his chest, the tightness of his breath as he tried to escape, the icy mirror under his feet, the unsteadiness, bullets shattering the glass surface…

The cold water that swallowed him, the endless darkness under the ice.

Jack fought it.  
He fought it and swam, letting adrenaline move muscles, push his body to the far side where the ice was thinner, where he was able to breakthrough. Under the cover of holly bushes and snow covered underbrush, Jack scrambled out the lake…

And he ran. Ran like the coward he was.  
But what could a nine year old child do? Against men in black with guns and the intent to kill. To massacre, to exterminate every single threat. Humans that stood against the Rift.  
This was the Eradication. Days and Nights of endless bloodshed as the Rift swept across the country, declaring war and murdering everyone, everything…

Jack hid himself in the woods, endlessly crying to himself, huddled in the nook of tree roots, hidden by foliage and a snow blanket. He sometimes cried to himself when he was awake. Other times he would just lay there, in a daze, wondering if he was dreaming. But the blood on his hands, the stench of death on his body would only remind him… _this was real._  
 _This was all real…_

Jack laid there, unmoving, not wanting to get up, to face the reality of the world ending.  
Jack didn't know the world was ending then. He was a boy. Just a scared little boy who spent weeks hiding in the forest, surviving off of plants and lake water. Even cold tinned soup and sweets that him and his friends had brought and hid from their parents in their own, make shift treehouse. Even now, ten years later, Jack still didn't know what had happened to them. To his friends he had grown up with.  
He could only hope their deaths were swift, their bodies burned rather than left to rot and decay somewhere in the wild…

When Jack had finally ventured out of his haven, more to hunger and starvation than to mindless courage, Jack had found the town abandoned. No blood, no corpses. Just an empty, abandoned town.  
One that Jack pillaged. Every house, every shed, every car.

The boy let instinct take over.

 _To survive._  
To _survive_ and _fight_ the Rift.  
To claim _revenge_ for his family, his town, his _home._

He horded all the food, all the medicines and blankets, clothes, anything he could salvage and stashed it away in the house at the end of the street.  
He took every knife from every kitchen, every length of string, tools and books. Fishing books, hunting books. Medicine books, herb books from kitchens. Spices, herbs, bandages, plasters, medicine. Petrol from cars, matches, fire starters, coal from the fireplace. Tools from garages, duvets, paper, pencils, paint, sharp things that could be used as a weapon, glass bottles, alcohol, candles. He took clothes and shoes, coats and bags.  
Jack raided the school. He took every book from the library, every chair, every desk. He pulled the lockers off the walls and raided them. He took batteries from the clocks, the supplies from the teacher's office. He took every makeup bag, every backpack.

A week. It took Jack a whole week to board up one house. He boarded up the front door and the back door, blacked out the windows and nailed the door shut, from the inside and out.  
Jack attacked street walls, signs, smashed up cars and graphitised others.

 _"WARNING. QUARANTINE ZONE."_

Everywhere, all around the edge of town.

For five years Jack survived on his own. The town was his kingdom, the house his castle. He no longer took to the streets but the roofs instead, the perfect vantage point to hunt wandering animals. He trapped deer in the football field near the school building and began to breed them, rearing them for a food supply.  
He hid from the Rift, sheltered from storms and cultivated his own fields of fruit and vegetables in the local park. He raided the allotments for food, only when necessary, letting the plants grow by themselves and bear fruit.  
Anything rotten, Jack would plant somewhere else, in hopes that they would grow again.

Orchards sprung up in old backyards. Jack pulled down fences and built his own. To keep out animals. To shelter young saplings.  
Snares were set up to trap smaller animals. He taught himself to make them, using instructions from books and his own creativity.  
The lake was a perfect source of water.

He had everything he wanted. _Except, company_.  
Jack grew lonely. Even if he lost himself in books, disappearing into the world of Vikings fighting Dragons, or went on adventures with missing Princess's and faraway Kingdoms of rebellious daughters and evil bears and blue ghosts….  
Jack could never escape the reality of being alone. He found himself in the dark ages, living to survive, surviving to fight against the Rift.

Jack was too scared to venture past his kingdom walls. Too afraid of being caught by the Rift, of getting lost in the great wide out-there, past the threshold of his territory.

That was, until Jack woke one morning, to the growl of a car engine. An everyday noise, but living in his world of silence for the past five years, it was an unknown sound. An earth shattering roar like that of a slumbering monster that had finally awakened.  
Scared, and panicking, Jack grabbed his rifle; one of those he had claimed from the police station, quickly moving to the closest window. He peered between the wooden slats that he had hammered there in an attempt to fortify the openings.

Outside was a boy and girl near a car, just a few hundred feet from Jack's castle. They were hunched near a car, either side of the open doors, ready to dive in, but also ready to flee at any sign of danger. They both looked to be older. About eighteen.

The boy had tattoos on his arms and face, dark blue Aztec patterns from what Jack could make out from his sniper position. He had dark blue hair, spiky and badly cropped in places, styled back out of his face. He had a gun at his side, a large backpack across his back.  
The woman also had one herself; a thin girl with dainty arms and delicate features. She had dark brown hair, illuminated with streaks of colour and bright feathers. She was holding her own gun, the weapon held in two uncertain hands.

"Shit. There's no petrol," Jack heard the boy curse, pulling away from the car and slamming the door angrily. The boy felt his body tense, his trigger finger twitching on his rifle. "Sssh Aster. We're trying to run from the Rift. We don't want to broadcast our location," the girl hissed, lifting her gun to aim around her as if expecting the Rift to burst out of a nearby building or from behind another abandoned car. Once the girl deemed it was still safe, she turned back to the other: Aster.  
"The Rift must have syphoned all of the fuel. And I bet it's the same story for the rest of these," the boy growled, jerking his head to the other vehicles. The girl nodded. "I bet it's got something to do with the _quarantine signs_ we saw all around the town."  
Aster nodded, his voice dropping so that the two could continue their conversation, although quieter.

Jack pressed himself closer to the wall, unable to hear them. His mind was racing with questions. _Should he call out? Or should he remain quiet?  
Would the two move on eventually?_

Jack didn't know what to do. Five years of no human contact and here now, a boy and girl were practically on his doorstep.  
If he called out to them, would they help him, or would they attack him?

Before Jack could make up his mind, the intruders began to head down the street, sneaking away slowly. They were ducking from car to car, keeping an eye out from anyone following.

Jack felt himself panicking. _What if they killed off his deer or took food from his field? What if they ruined what he took five years to build, to preserve?_

Without thinking, Jack raised the gun to his sights, lining up the man's tattoo as a target… "What was that?"  
Jack crouched slightly, watching the cautious look of the girl, watching her frantically twist this way and that as if she was aware for the eyes on her. Could she sense Jack's hurtful intent…?

"What's what?"  
"I think…. I thought I heard something."  
"You're just being paranoid," Aster hissed, repositioning his gun and turning to continue onwards, down the street. "If the Rift was really here, they would've already attacked us, long before I tried to start the car."

The girl hesitated, her eyes still scanning for a sign of a threat. Anything….. "I don't know Aster-"  
The shot echoed out across the silent town, followed by the cry of agony. Aster dropped to the floor, holding his right arm where the bullet pierced him. The gun dropped to his feet, kicked away in a panicked moment of pain, too focused on stemming the flow of blood from the painful wound. The girl turned, forgetting the danger of the unknown sniper…  
"Aster! Aster!" She grabbed hold of the boy, panicking as her own hands tried to cover the wounds. "Who," Aster growled between clenched teeth. "I don't…"  
The girl seemed to remember the danger they were in. She lifted her gun, quickly ducking to grab the boy's as well, tears streaming down her face as she tried to pick a target.

Jack watched silently, trying to make up his mind whether or not he could trust them….  
There was a voice in the back of his mind, asking why he had shot the boy. Was it just because he was protecting himself…? Or was it an undying madness.  
 _Fight to survive. Survive to fight. Kill anything that poses a threat._  
Even _humans,_ who are an endangered species. Destroying themselves with war empowered by greed and suffering and revenge; the very tools that defined man. His strength, and his weakness.

Bloodlust. Power. Hunger.  
A want. A _need._

A desire to thrive.

 _Was Jack destroying himself?_  
 _Was he going mad from loneliness?_  
 _Was he becoming feral? An animal?_

A… _Monster?_

The girl was in a panic, half her mind protective, the other caring as she tried to talk to the injured boy in a soothing tone, crushing her own fears, putting on a brave face. "Aster, we have to move. We're out in the open. Can you get up?" The boy just groaned in response, his cries silenced as he bit down on his lip. "W-who-"  
"I don't know," the girl sobbed, leaning in to lend a shoulder to the boy, to help him stand. "Tooth-"  
"We have to go," the girl pleaded, her eyes still streaming with tears.

Jack found himself stood in the exact spot where Aster had been shot. He'd watched the pair, deemed them safe enough to trust before taking them back to his attic lookout. During the time Aster's wounds healed, Jack grew close to the pair, listening to their stories, about how they each had escaped from the Rift, losing their own families in the process.  
He listened to the story where they met each other; friends reunited after they thought that they would never meet again.

They told Jack how they were searching for North, an old friend who had left before the Eradication, but had been eventually caught by the Rift.

Then, once Aster was fully healed, Jack accepted the offer to go with them. They found North and saved him as well as the other prisoners the Rift had taken. Together, they founded a survivors camp in an old army mountain base. After that, Jack had made several outings with Aster and Tooth in search for other survivors.  
They found Merida and her family, helping them back to camp along with many more. The older ones trained to fight, to hunt or protect.

A system was created and volunteers were accepted to go past the walls to find more survivors and supplies to keep the small community thriving.  
The skilled were made team leaders; Aster, Jack, Merida, Snotlout, Eret…  
The smart planned ambush attacks and raids; Fishlegs, Pascal, Angus…  
The strong trained to fight, to better their skills; Astrid, Hook Fang, Flynn…  
The compassionate became healers, to help the sick and injured; Rapunzel, Sandy and Gothi…

The rest each found their place in the survivor's camp, using their skills to work together. The system worked.  
The survivors made a community and lived in secret away from the Rift.

 _Free-Breathers_ they called themselves. Something someone had said in jest and it had stuck.  
North was one of the leaders, along with Stoick, a man who had found the camp, bringing with him, almost all of his townspeople that had survived the Eradication. His leadership and strong will to survive was respected by all. Being one of the three leaders was a natural choice for everyone.  
The third was Fergus Dunbroch. He came later. He was Merida's father and had helped survivors that came to his town. They were all taken back to the Free-Breathers headquarters and joined the community.

The Leaders were nicknamed the elders. They held council for decisions. The community could raise arguments and all of the Hunter Team Leaders were present to vote as well.

Jack, leading of Team Frost, specialising in base and convoy raid missions. His team; Tooth, speed fighter and tactic advisor, Snotlout, muscle and brute strength, Stormfly, long Range Weapons specialist and Rapunzel, their healer.

Aster, leader of Team Speed, specialising in convoy tracking. Their team; Ruffnut and Belch, explosive experts, Hookfang, the muscle and Maximus, speed fighter.

Merida, leader of Team Archer, specialising in Scouting and hunting missions. Their team; Tuffnut and Barf, projectile weapons expert, and Flynn, skilled fighter.

Eret, leader of Team Stealth, specialising in spy and infiltration missions. Their team; Pascal, coordinator and genius, Mei-Lin and Sandy, healers and skilled fighters.

The people were peaceful, productive. They made families, living side by side one another, working with each other. Teenagers would be recruited for the fight, but only volunteers could go past the wall. The elders were fair and didn't force for sacrifice. They had rules in place to reduce casualties. No one under the age of sixteen was allowed over the wall. No one ill or unable were allowed over the wall. The wall was patrolled at all times and everyone had a shift, but it was fair. Everything was fair. They wanted to live in peace…

But there were still casualties.  
Families torn apart when raids went wrong, friends captured, tortured, taken prisoner back to Pitch's empire.  
They lost Astrid to a convey ambush in the first year. The Free-Breathers claimed the goods but the Rift claimed a prisoner.  
They lost Tooth two years after. It was an infiltration mission gone wrong. She was the only one who hadn't made it back, leaving Aster without a wife, Jamie and Sophie without a mother…

Jack held himself responsible.  
He was the one running the mission.  
He had accepted the help of Eret and his team.

Two teams.  
 _Twice the risk._

Jack was the one to make the judgement to continue when there were more men than predicted. The Rift were going to depart the checkpoint earlier in the evening than they wanted. It was lighter. Less cover of shadows. It had been raining.

The alarms blaring, red lights flashing, people screaming as they tried to get past the outer gates which were closing, blocking the outside world from the base courtyard. It was muddy. Hard to run.

Jack was leading the way. He was already through the doors, counting his comrades as they escaped the courtyard outside the base, his gun trained on the soldiers chasing his team.

 _Eret._

A shot to a Rift sniper on the wall. Dead, immediately.

 _Stormfly._

Two ground units swarmed from the North and South bay doors. Jack took down three in a spray of bullets.

 _Snotlout._

Eret took up point on the other side of the gate, using the rapidly closing door for cover. They took down four more enemies.

 _Rapunzel,_ dragging her brother _Pascal_ by the hand.

Snotlout pulled out his own weapon. The gunman in the watchtower fell with a scream from his lips.  
Two more by the North doors. One behind the remaining team. Two from the South door.

 _Mei-lin._

The doors opened again and another horde or nightmares charged forward. Jack held his trigger, feeling the cool metal under his sweaty palms.  
Stormfly took out her own sniper, accurately picking off one target, and then another.

 _Sandy._

Half of the soldiers were dead. Eret and Snotlout continued to spray. Jack reloaded and aimed again. Stormfly took down another enemy. Mei-lin grabbed her own weapon from the stash they stole, lining up targets in her sights…

 _And Tooth._

"TOOTH! RUN!"

 _Tooth,_ who came last.

"DON'T LOOK BACK! JUST RUN!"

 _Tooth,_ who fell as she raced to the door; shot through the leg by a Rift grunt with a lucky _shot._  
 _Tooth,_ who screamed in pain, the echoes ringing out as she was dragged away into the shadows of the dimly lit base.

Jack's own voice calling out for his sister as she was stolen away from him as he struggled against Snotlout and Eret who were pulling him back.

 _The gates closing._  
 _Tooth screaming._

The gates closing and Jack unable to reach her. He fought the hands on him. He refused to let their hold restrain him.  
The gates closing as Jack hit and kicked. The feeling of more hands on him, the strength on his wrists, his stomach, his neck.  
The gates closing, and Tooth dragged further and further away.

The gates closed.  
And Tooth was still inside, in the clutches of the monsters who would torture her, destroy her before finally, finally killing her as she begged for it.

Jack had to abandon her. The Rift had swarmed the steps past the gates; Pascal screaming as a gun was aimed at his head. Mei-Lin barrelling through a line of soldiers to clear a path. Stormfly tossing a grenade into the ranks; part of the drop that they had managed to collect from the base. A poor alternative to a captured comrade.

"We can't leave her!" Jack screamed into the night, ignoring the rain as it pelted the ground. "Jack, we have to go," Snotlout yelled, trying to keep his grip on the teen that was doing everything he could to get back to the large black gates.  
"She's not dead. SHE'S NOT DEAD!" The others had raced to the treeline, slowed down with the weight of the supplies they had stolen. Weighed down with the heaviness of having lost another.

Toothiana.

 _What would Aster say? How could Jack tell him? And Jamie, and Sophie?_  
Aster and Tooth had made Jack their godfather. _How could he live with killing their mother?_

Because that was how Jack saw it. He was the one that had killed Tooth. He let her come. He had agreed…

Eight of them returned to camp.  
Eight. Not nine.

Everyone was in the bunker, waiting for them to come home, gathered to celebrate another the return of their nine victorious soldiers.

Nine. Not eight.

Nine joyous, spirited young adults.  
Not eight tired people with broken spirits and blisters and open wounds. Too many to count. None serious enough to care.  
 _The biggest wound, the biggest pain…_

"Tooth?" It was Aster who had called out for her first. "Tooth? Where's Tooth?"  
It was Aster who called, but it was Jamie realised it first. A five year old child who understood the sombre expressions at that name. The disheartened, mournful looks. The hollowness. The emptiness left from the loss of a loved one.  
Jamie understood all of this. And he didn't say a word. He simply cried.  
Sophie didn't understand. She clung to her brother, upset at his tears, calling for her mother who wasn't coming…

Aster's eyes grew wide. He hadn't seen her. The bunker doors were shut and she hadn't come in. He hadn't seen her….  
Aster ran up to Jack, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Jack. Where's Toothiana? Where?"

Jack stared up into those two eyes. Devastation and despair reflected from his own.  
"She's… she…"

Two weeks it had taken the group to move from the Rift Bunker back to the mountains.  
Two weeks that Jack had spent thinking of what to say to Aster. How to tell him that she hadn't made it. How to tell him that it was all his fault. How he had thought of every way to tell Aster his wife was dead but now, stood here in front of the man who was slowly breaking down… he had nothing to say.

 _What could he say?_ _That Tooth was dead?_  
No, not yet. The Rift weren't that merciless.

Aster had figured it out though. He listened to the silence. He listened to every tear that fell, listened to the apologies in Jack's sobs as the boy himself broke down.  
Two weeks of a brave face and the indescribable need to get home, to apologise, to take Tooth's message with him. Because he had heard it.  
From her screaming heart as she was dragged away into the darkness. "Tell them I love them." She loved them. Them…  
Aster her husband. Jamie and Sophie, her children.  
North, her adopted father. Sandy and Jack and everyone she had adopted into her family.

 _And Baby Tooth. Her unborn child._  
One that she carried with her into the depths of hell.

Aster had known. She had told him the night before setting out.  
It was going to be her last mission. Jack hadn't known. If he had, he wouldn't have let her come.

Aster didn't blame Jack. He didn't blame any of the team. He blamed the Rift. He blamed Pitch. The psychotic bastard that hungered for the domination and purification of the human race, turning it into something for everyone to be proud of. Everyone knew of his ideals. No one cared.  
They all knew, no matter how much you supported the monster and his putrid ideals, you weren't perfect in his eyes. A hint of... anything he didn't like and you were an enemy. Impure. Unfit to live. And you were disposed of.

It didn't matter who Aster blamed… But no matter what Jack still blamed himself.

One week. He gave himself one week to mourn Tooth. And one day to bid farewell.  
He took the clothes off his back and a food supply of three days. His weapons. Knives only. No guns. No ammo. He didn't deserve that much. The minimum.

Jack said his goodbyes in the bunker. Jamie and Aster begged him not to go. North said nothing. Everyone else tried to make him stay, but they couldn't understand. Jack didn't bother trying to explain. He said his goodbyes and left.

To the great wide out-there that he had been too afraid to explore as a child. But seventeen and finally an adult, Jack left the sanctuary of the Free-Breathers and ventured out to find other survivors. To fight the Rift on his own terms and never again risk any of his family in the fight for humanity…

Jack pulled himself out of his memories. That was a long time ago. He had been back to camp several times since, each time leaving a longer amount of time before his next visit. At first he returned after a month. Then four. Then six. And now, an entire year had passed. Five seasons.  
It would take him another week to get to the mountain range. He was close enough. He could at least go back. Just to let them know he was still alive. He could update them on Rift activities, and gain any that they had collected. He could check how they're coping and how much they had expanded.  
Hopefully he wouldn't have to add to the list of names that he had to find. Jack had all but tattooed the names into his arm, checking every Rift base, questioning any grunts he left standing if they had seen anyone.

 _Tooth, Astrid and Aster, who had followed his wife into the depths of hell to rescue her…_

Jack walked towards the house at the end of the street. He stared up at it, slightly amazed that he had lived here for five years, yet how small it looked now. The windows were still boarded up, the red door, the paint peeling from years of sun and rain and snow. Jack sighed to himself. This place was bringing back more memories and some of them, were ones that he didn't wish to visit again.…

Suddenly, something snapped.

Jack froze. _Shit_. He had been too careless. Idiotically walking down the street, reminiscing about the past when he _knew_ the Rift was after him.  
Jack ducked down quick, darting to the side. He pressed himself up against the cold rough metal of a rusty car door, his gaze flicking across the emptiness of the seemingly abandoned street behind him. Jack's stomach clenched at the unmistakable scratch of paws passing over debris and a snout snuffling the air, rooting for a foreign scent: _him._  
The boy pushed his back further against the car door, trying to see down the abandoned street. He made as little noise as possible, edging to nose of the vehicle, glancing in the reflections of the windows of others that had been precariously ditched down what was once a normal housing street. He watched silently, trying to see what was hunting him this time…

Now it was empty; a ghost town. Almost.  
Jack saw it first, before _it_ saw Jack.

A wolf. Its coat as dark as a moonless night sky, smooth and sleek, a deceiving mask of its dangerous beauty. Eyes as bright as sunshine, yet a dangerous glint to them as they glanced along what was once human territory. Now it was no man's land.  
The wolf sniffed the street, his paws taking him back and forth from gasoline puddles to other scents. Jack wished that he had thought of tricking creatures such as these; Rift hunting dogs alike. He could've masked his scent with oil and mud. Something told him it would fool the dumber creatures, but not this wolf.

This wolf… It seemed to be searching for something.  
It nudged some dead creature with its nose, maybe a bird, trying to deem whether or not it was safe to eat…

Jack watched in silence, knowing the beast wouldn't be alone. Its pack would be close by. If Jack got caught by them… Well he didn't have the bullets to spare.

There was a snarl; loud and threatening. A warning. The wolf was glaring at something a little way away, ears half flattened to the side of his head, tail unmoving as he stared. Was it _them? The Rift?_ Had they really tracked Jack this far south?  
Jack cursed to himself silently. He had hoped he'd covered his tracks well enough, but it didn't seem to be the case...

From the far end of the street another wolf came trotting. Its fur was of a light beige with red smudges on its tail and maw. Jack felt his heart skip a beat at the prospect of blood. But what shocked Jack more so than the bigger wolf, was who followed it. A boy. Not a boy. A young man. He looked nineteen. _Jack's age._ Brown messy hair, the locks pushed messily from his face. He had two short braids on the left. His face was slightly freckled, his skin slightly tanned from the harsh summer sun. He wore a mishap of brown leather-like armour across his body, marked with red paint in places. And he was laughing.  
The boy nudged the tan wolf with his hip, ruffling its head as together they jogged over to the black wolf who greeted them in kind. "What is it bud?" he asked, bending down so that he was eye level with the creature.

Jack watched, unaware that he was slowly moving from his hiding place. He was too focused on the boy to bother with the tan wolf that ran off and out of sight. Jack just watched the boy as he spoke softly to the black wolf. It was intriguing, as if the boy genuinely believed the wolf could understand. The creature yipped slightly, head butting the boy who fell over. Jack felt his body tense when he saw the metal leg. So he too was a victim of the Rift…

There was noise behind Jack. A rustle of grass. Blown by the wind?  
The threatening growl that followed told him otherwise.

Jack knew that it was the tan wolf before he'd even locked eyes on it. The creature glared at him, baring its fangs and snapping ferociously. "Cloudjumper? What's wrong?" Jack could hear the boy approaching. Hopefully he could call off the wolf. They seemed to be his after all.  
Before Jack could say anything the black wolf ran into view, turning to growl just as ferociously. Jack felt his heart in his throat. And his gun was still slung over his back….

Jack wanted to call out, but he wasn't sure if that would signal the wolves to strike. Unconsciously he pushed himself back into the car as much as the metal would allow. It was then that the boy appeared. He faltered at the sight of the white haired boy pinned against the car, as if seeing him was the most unbelievable thing that the boy could imagine. He gave Jack a wide birth, staying behind the protection of two very angry beasts, bright green eyes full of shock and… fear…

"Another human…" the boy whispered, moving to crouch between the wolves. He seemed to study Jack, who was getting more and more unnerved by the blood stained wolf teeth that seemed to be aimed at his throat. Jack wanted to speak but he had no defence if the wolves lunged. Slowly, the boy raised his hands, placing one each on each beast's maw, instantly silencing their growls. But it didn't stop their murderous glares as they continued to stare out Jack.

"Who are you? Why are you here?" The boy asked, strength in his voice. Yet he spoke softly, his words kind.

"M-my name is Jack," the white-haired boy said. He tried to ignore the wolves and watched the boy. "I'm running from the Rift. Who are you?" The boy hesitated for a moment. "Hiccup."  
Jack nodded, before eyeing the wolves. He ignored the small voice in his head questioning the boy's name, but said nothing. "Can I get up?"

Hiccup nodded, moving backwards, guiding the wolves with him. Jack moved slowly, still unsure if the boy had full command of the animals. He dusted off his trousers, trying to keep himself calm, as if it was natural to be threatened by wolves…

The boys stood in silence for a moment, assessing the other.  
Hiccup was the first to speak. "Are there others?"  
"You mean survivors?" Hiccup nodded. "Yes," Jack said slowly. "But not with me." The boy hesitated. Hiccup was a survivor, so Jack should tell him of the base. But over the years, Jack had learnt the hard way, not to believe people so easily…  
 _No. Hiccup was a survivor, just like Jack. He was alone. Like Jack. He shouldn't be so suspicious._

"Why? Are you looking for someone?" The brunette dropped his eyes. Jack caught the flicker of sadness, but the moment passed and it was gone.

More silence.

Jack was nervous. He looked around, his instincts telling him that the two of them were sitting ducks. And the Rift were still hunting him...  
"We should hide," Jack said, glancing up to the house. He was planning to spend the night here. And he was sure there was food still in the attic… "The Rift are coming."

Hiccup made no attempt to move. He was watching the wolves quietly, as if deep in thought. "I have a safe house in this town," Jack said, pointing to the house behind Hiccup. "It's secure. We can camp in there tonight. Or, I'm going to at least," he said when there was still no response from the boy.  
Slowly, Jack stepped to the side. The tan wolf growled immediately, but Hiccup laid a hand on his maw again and the wolf did not move.

Jack didn't turn his back as he made his way over to the tree in the corner of the house's garden. The grass was extremely overgrown making it difficult at first to find a decent hand hold. But memory kicked in and Jack was able to navigate up the tree with ease. Now and again he kept peering over his shoulder to see if the boy, Hiccup, was following, but he still seemed locked in thought. And he was still stood out in the open…

Jack managed to reach the top of the tree quickly, jumping onto the roof and over to the one window that hadn't been boarded up. His own entrance and exit to the safe house he had lived in for five years.  
Nothing had changed. It was all as it was. For the first time in months Jack felt himself relax. But at the same time, a little disappointed. He had wanted Hiccup to follow him. It was rare to find survivors nowadays, especially ones that were roaming around by themselves, and the boy intrigued him. But Jack knew better than to pressure people to do things. Especially when a certain someone has two lethal dogs at his beckon call. _Wolves,_ his mind corrected him.

Jack slipped off his back pack and moved back to the attic window. He could see the street clearly, and the empty space where the boys and his wolves had been stood. Jack sighed to himself and scratched his head. Nothing to do now. The boy closed the window and locked it, moving to the makeshift bed in the corner, made up of a few dozen duvets and twice as many blankets bundled together. Under the floorboards were tinned fruits and reserves hidden from anyone else who decided to camp in the house.  
It wasn't that Jack wouldn't share. He just needed his own food supplies for when he needed a quick hideaway, such as now. Jack grabbed himself some peaches in syrup and one of his favourite books. He kicked off the top three layers of clothes, getting ready to dive into the duvet pile. He put some candles on the side with a match and some sand paper for when it got dark, before cocooning himself in the blankets.  
Jack loved fantasy books. He had made several trips from the Free-Breather's camp to here, just taking books back and forth for the children to read. He'd left his favourite, or at least copies of his favourites in the attic for the times when he came back for some peace and quiet. The library had plenty of copies, so Jack didn't have to feel guilty about not sharing some good reads with the children.

North and Aster were impressed with Jacks capability as a nine year old to survive. They marvelled at his self-sustaining deer pen, his farm and traps around the town. They incorporated many of Jack's ideas into the bunker in the mountains, giving Jack the opportunity to perfect his traps and inventions, making them more effective. They all taught him a lot.  
Tooth taught him how to use his size and speed.  
Aster taught him how to use projectile weapons.  
North taught him how to remain human.  
Sandy taught him hope.

And Rapunzel taught him love. But it was a fragile love. Jack didn't want to hurt her. He knew the pain of losing family, with Emma and his Mom. He didn't want Rapunzel to experience that again. She had her younger brother, Pascal.  
Besides, Flynn suited her better. He provided for her, for her and her brother and kept them safe. Jack wasn't the one she truly needed….

Night fell quickly, bringing with it the silence of an abandoned and broken world. Jack had long since fallen asleep. He had been too exhausted to bask in the glow of the sunset, or count the stars as they appeared in the night sky, something he would do before sleep. It was enough, just to accept the little beauty that remained in these lands. Like flowers, blooming in fields and gardens, as if defying Pitch's reign. Green fields and blue skies. The constant reminder that Jack was free.  
But never free from danger. He couldn't admire their beauty for long, always moving onwards. Even when he slept, the boy was never at peace. He had learnt to doze and nap, never sleeping properly in case someone would sneak up on him. He was always alert, always on guard, in case an enemy, or predator was lurking near….

The rustling of the leaves outside were a comfort in this dark void. The scratching on the roof of his hideout seemed to fill the darkness with signs of life, yet Jack knew that noise could mask the sounds of footsteps, the hiss of grass against someone's legs as they approached his hiding place– _What was that?  
_ Jack was awake immediately. He was sat up, his hand on his flip knife, the other on something hard and heavy to throw. Something creaked beneath him…  
The gentle tap of footsteps echoed off of the wood flooring…

 _Someone else was in the house._

Jack pulled his eyes from the ground, and stared over at the ladder that led down to the top floor of the house. The trapdoor was still shut. It was still secured, locked tight with several bike chains that Jack had found from his exploration. He had buried it under more boxes of salvaged goods. It would be hard to get into the attic from there, but not impossible. Although, it should at least give Jack plenty of time to escape through the window and into the woods, hopefully unseen…  
But Jack could hear more than one set of footsteps. They were moving slowly, there feet gliding across the floor quietly…

Four pairs of feet. Four enemies.  
 _Survivors? Or the Rift? Had they followed him this far? But how did they know he was here…_

If if was the Rift, they would've raided every other house. Jack would've heard them.

Silently, Jack pulled himself out of his duvet pile, ignoring the cold night air. He put down the book he held, reaching out for his gun rather than the dull implement. But if he started a fight, the Rift would just burn the house and Jack would be forced to flee into gun fire. He couldn't save this place if he fought like that…

Jack's thoughts were suddenly disrupted by a sharp noise from somewhere behind him. The boy twisted around, aiming the barrel of his gun to the source of the noise to find… _Hiccup?_ He was perched quietly at the window which Jack used as his main entrance point. He looked a little ashamed, his face lit up by the pale moonlight. He looked worried, glancing over his shoulder before tapping on the window again.  
Jack sighed in relief, lowering his gun. He felt himself laugh, internally kicking himself for actually aiming the gun to Hiccup.

 _But it could've been the Rift,_ he reminded himself, moving closer to the window, when suddenly more footsteps below echoed up to the attic.

Jack froze. _Could this be… a trick?_ Hiccup rapped on the window pane again, glancing over his shoulder once more.  
" _Hurry up,"_ he mouthed, ushering Jack to quicken his pace.

 _He couldn't… he was so confused when he first saw me. Did something… was it… me?_

Jack stared at the boy; the way he tensed as he glared at something over his shoulder. That same selfish survival instinct crept up to somewhere in his throat. The same dark voices questioning if he could trust Hiccup and if Hiccup could trust him. Wouldn't they be better just leaving each other alone? Then he wouldn't have to think or worry about him. Jack could just go on the way he had been for the past two years: not endangering anyone else, only looking out for himself…

Jack felt his eyes glance over Hiccup again. He looked tired and almost… _fearful._ Even as he was perched, perfectly balanced, on the roof ledge, he looked off somehow. Not quite as he was this morning. Their eyes met, and for a moment, Jack thought he could see a plea.

The white-haired survivor stood up, quickly rushing to the window to pull it open. He ignored the colder air of the attic, and the breeze that blew in with the straggler, that formed goose-bumps over his bare legs. "Thanks," Hiccup breathed, helping Jack close the window behind him, watching as Jack bolted up the opening, peering out across the street. It was empty. Just as Jack had left it…

"What are you doing here?" Jack asked eventually, once he had docked his gun back by his bed, and closed the shutters on his makeshift entrance. He hadn't expected to see the teen again after their abrupt meeting and departure in the street earlier that morning. "Not sure," the boy said slowly. "But you offered so…"  
Hiccup trailed off. He looked the place over, still crouched slightly, his head tilted to the side ever so gently as he stared at the different things around the room. "So what made you change your mind?" Jack asked, pulling on a pair of black jeans and his black hoodie for more warmth, trying not to focus on the way Hiccup was still crouched; animalistic… and guarded.  
The floorboards beneath his feet creaked. Jack glanced down, his fingers freezing on his belt buckle. _Was it the rift? Was this a trap? Was Hiccup going to turn on him, sell him to the nightmare monsters that hunted humans from the shadows?  
_ "They're restless," Hiccup murmured, caressing the wood beneath his feet. The wolves… "They know the hunters followed you. They've never come this far South before. Usually they stop at the river…"

Hiccup lifted his eyes, his own meeting with the white-haired survivor. "Why do you risk going so close? Why do you deliberately attack them?"  
Jack stumbled for an answer. How did this boy know…? "They have my family," the boy found himself saying. "I need to find them."  
The brunette seemed to ponder the comment. "How long ago?" Jack hesitated. _Why should he answer? What did he owe to this boy, to someone that he had only just met…?_

"Two years."  
"And you think they're still alive."  
"I have to," Jack said, his voice edging on anger. "It's what keeps me going."

Hiccup nodded silently, lowering his head. "I lost some too," he said, standing, to reveal his missing leg. Jack couldn't help but cringe at the sight of it, illuminated by the dim candlelight. But from the bottom of the stump, it seemed to move, like some sort of contraption that he had used to replace his missing foot…  
"Did they do that?" Jack whispered. But it didn't seem to be a crude job. Instead it looked specifically designed. Maybe he had lost it before the Eradication….

"No," Hiccup said, smiling as he pulled the metal leg closer. "It was me."

And the conversation ended there. Jack looked awkwardly to his bed, to the food hidden beneath his floorboards. The wolves scratched on the floor below, growling softly. Hiccup stared at the floor, seemingly brooding over something…

"Are you hungry?" Jack asked, breaking the awkward silence. Hiccup looked up, scowling slightly as if the concept of hunger eluded him. He tilted his head on one side, glancing Jack up and down. "I don't need anything…" he said slowly, his gaze lingering too long. Jack could feel his cheeks flush slightly from embarrassment. "I'm offering you food. Now take it already." Jack grabbed a spare tin from his pile, tossing it to Hiccup. The boy snatched it out of the air bringing it to his nose and… _sniffing_ it? But the boy had a slight wild look about him.  
Jack knew that spending years without human contact affected people in different ways. It was a miracle he kept his sanity.  
 _Part of it_ , his brain said. _You did shoot Aster when he first arrived. And how many have you killed since…_

Jack watched, dumbfounded, as Hiccup turned the tin over, sniffing each inch of it. With one hand Hiccup held the tin and with the other… _he used his nail to cut an opening!_  
Jack tried to ignore the boy, instead busying himself by moving near the duvet pile, reaching out to the rafter behind where his candles were lined up. He lit a couple, bringing half of them over to a small stool on the other side of the attic, lighting the room some more. Hiccup was happily eating the fruit slices, using a sharp nail to dig each one out. Jack sat himself back onto the floor, soaking in the comfortable quiet. He wanted to talk, to enjoy conversation like he used to. _But, where to start? What should he ask? Or should he say something about himself first?_

"That's delicious," Hiccup grinned, draining the remainder of the tin. "I had forgotten the taste of peaches."  
Jack smiled, recalling Aster's words. "I miss strawberries," he murmured unconsciously, smiling when Hiccup looked up. He smiled again. "I agree."

It was as if Hiccup and Jack were long lost brothers. They fell into a simple, yet easy conversation, avoiding the subject of the End of the World. The two were happy to relax, not even giving the remote sign of caution of the other, as if the human race wasn't an endangered species. The two talked of adventures and the places they had seen as the trekked the country for signs of life.  
Hiccup hadn't seen another person since the Eradication. He had assumed he was the last person alive, although he didn't' want to accept it. Jack told Hiccup about the camp in the mountains, with plenty of survivors. When the brunette asked if Jack could take him there too, Jack accepted.

"Do you live here?" Hiccup asked, subtly changing the course of the conversation. "No, although I would call it my second home. It is important to me after all," Jack said, grabbing another of his favourite hoodie. The cold was creeping in, but Hiccup didn't seem too fussed by the drop in temperature. "No, I live all over, hunting, pillaging and killing the Rift where I can," Jack continued, with the least amount of emotion in his words. He'd accepted his life, no matter how shit it was. He had planned to be a teacher when he was seven, but the End of the World had changed his life plan.  
So he had changed it.

 _Fight to survive. Survive to fight._

Hiccup's eyes darkened, but he made no comment.

"So where did you live before all this?" he asked.  
"Outside of town," Jack said simply, realising just how much he had missed human contact. Even just talking.  
Talking with Hiccup was surprisingly peaceful, even though he was talking about a subject he usually avoided. "In a house with my mother and sister."  
"And are they at camp?"  
"No they're dead."

Jack surprised himself at how harsh the words sounded, but at the same time, he didn't feel too upset as he spoke. Hiccup hesitated, his drink temporarily forgotten. He looked up to Jack, fixing him with his emerald eyes, staring into the icy blue ones as if trying to see deep inside his mind. "I lost my entire village," he said. "No one survived." There was sadness in his voice. Jack nodded.  
They weren't blessing each other with useless ' _I'm sorry,'_ or irritating sympathy. They were simply relating, and sharing the same pain.

"My town was taken by the Rift," Jack said. He didn't know if it was true. It was just a thought, based on the missing blood and bodies that hadn't decorated the town when he came out of hiding. "Maybe some of the survivors are from your village–"  
"No," Hiccup interrupted. "They're all dead. No one survived." Quietly, he placed the bottle on the floor, his eyes shadowed in dark emotion.

"And what of the people in the mountains," he said, changing the subject once more. "They're survivors we found," Jack answered, rubbing his arms from the chill of the room. Or was it the atmosphere that had grown cold. "Some found their own way to camp. The others were prisoners we rescued from the Rift, or found hiding from them." Hiccup nodded. It was as if earlier had never happened.  
"North was the one who found it for us," Jack said, smiling as he began to reminisce. "He used to work in the army, so he knew where the abandoned base was. Aster and Tooth were looking for him and found me. We started travelling to find others and soon we had several survivors living there." Hiccup nodded, as if waiting for the boy to continue.

"There's Sandy. He teaches the others medicine. I think he was a Doctor before the Eradication. I never really asked. We sort of didn't speak about our lives before the End of the World. I guess it's easier that way," the boy said, not really aware that he was beginning to ramble. Hiccup didn't seem to mind that much. He had the occasionally thoughtful look on his face, and pain, but it was mainly hidden by a curious smile.

Jack told Hiccup all about camp.  
And Hiccup told Jack tales of surviving on his own. It wasn't until sunrise did Jack realise that they spent the entire night talking. "Shit," he grumbled, staring at his pile of duvets. He had been planning to sleep for a while so that he could head straight to the camp…

"It's morning already?" Hiccup asked, moving to the window. He stared out at the sunrise, his face lit by the light or the rising sun. "We missed the opportunity to hunt."  
"Hunt?" Jack had come to stand beside the boy, looking out on the familiar sight of the street aglow with the light. It still looked like the town was burning. A thought that didn't settle well with the white-haired teen.

"Yes. My brothers and I hunt at sunrise. There are still creatures awake then, and it gives us plenty of light to see, as well as darkness to cover us." Jack nodded silently, as if what the boy was saying made sense to him. "Brothers?"  
"Toothless and Cloudjumper." When Jack looked none-the-wiser, Hiccup went on to explain about the wolves. They were his brothers, and best friends. Originally Toothless, along with his pack, used to terrorise Hiccup's village, even in this day and age. But once the Eradication started, the pair had escaped together coincidentally. It was Toothless who saved Hiccup. Since then on, they looked out for each other. When they found Cloudjumper, he joined them too. The three of them had survived for the past several years by running and hunting. Avoiding the rift where possible and trying to survive.

"I'll go now," Hiccup said, pushing open the window. "Go where?" Jack asked, unconsciously grabbing Hiccup's shoulder. He didn't want the boy to go. Company, after so many years of silence. He didn't want it all to be ripped away from him so easily.

Hiccup turned back, smiling. "

* * *

 _Chapter One Finished. I hope you enjoyed it._


	2. Chapter Two

_Jack has found a companion in Hiccup. No longer alone in his fight, how will the boy change his life to let Hiccup in. Or will Jack's past blunders be too much? Will he push away his only friend?_

* * *

 **One Day, The Life We Have, Will Be Gone**

 **Chapter Two:** A Companion To Walk With On The Road To Hell

 **Jack**

Calm and quiet days were few and far between. They were meant to be peaceful and relaxing; something treasured in this fight or die world. They were meant to be spent resting and recuperating, maybe sleeping, or reading one of Jack's books, that he had collected and horded in his Castle Attic.  
Quiet days, without the fear of Rift Soldiers or Raider attacks, were supposed to be spent with the sense of relief of not having to watch over his shoulder for threats and anything else that might want to bring the boy to harm. The evasive moments, rare and precious, could be better spent counting supplies or planning routes.  
They should be spent sorting through information on Rift convoys and bases.  
They were meant to be spent updating Jack's vast collection of maps, planning attacks and fixing equipment, tools and weapons. Experimenting and improving them.  
Moments like these…

They weren't meant to be spent glancing at a slow ticking watch every five minutes or less. They weren't meant to be spent rushing to the window every time there was a distant noise, that could've sounded like someone was approaching. Like someone rustling through the branches of the tree as they climbed, or the sounds of footsteps on the roof tiles as someone nimbly stole across the rooftops to the entrance of the attic hideout.  
They weren't meant to be spent endlessly worried about a boy who may, or may not come back home. Home…

Jack sighed, quietly putting down his tools and the crossbow he had been fiddling with. He couldn't really concentrate on what he was doing. Besides, the calibration on the sights was all but perfect, so he didn't need to continue to worry about it. Not that he was worried in the first place.  
Jack was just trying to do anything that could distract his wandering mind. To stop himself from staring out the window. Reading novels just couldn't cut it. Neither could sorting through old gear and clothing that was taking up space. Even going through old 'how to' books that had hints and tips Jack still hadn't memorised.

This wasn't like him.  
It wasn't like Jack to fret and worry about Hiccup; someone who he had never met before. Someone who he barely knew. Yes, they may have spent the night talking, gossiping like old friends over a tin of fruit, reminiscing like an old married couple.

But Jack still knew barely anything about him.  
He knew that Hiccup was nineteen, _just like him_.  
He knew that he was a Survivor, running from the Rift, _just like him.  
_ He knew that Hiccup was looking for his family, holding onto the fragile hope that one day, the World would heal and life would return, to as he knew it should.  
 _Just like Jack did…._

It wasn't like Jack to worry. But he did.  
Over Hiccup and his own clouded thoughts. Was he really so fragile as to latch onto Hiccup like a lifeline? Was his life really so brittle that just the moments of normality had hindered the salt-haired teen enough that he was incapable of focusing on surviving?  
Did he latch onto Hiccup because he was strong? Because maybe Hiccup was someone who he wouldn't have to worry about. But that wasn't true. Because Jack was worried now.  
Maybe he had connected with him because, in Hiccup, he saw a little of himself.  
 _Was that it?_

Or was it desperation? The crippling loneliness after so long that anyone would do. Anyone, just so that they could fill that void in his heart and his body. Anyone….  
So why was it, that Jack could only think of Hiccup?

Jack sighed to himself, rubbing his hand through his hair and over his eyes. He was tired. Drained. But it would not do.  
The boy put his tools back in his bag, slipping the crossbow onto the frame around his wrist. Days with no Rift activity should not be taken lightly. And they certainly should not be wasted.

Jack had better things to be doing than waiting. He should be stocking up on supplies. If not, then there were plenty of other jobs that could be done, especially since he had the time to tend to his old territory.  
He could go to the other houses he had converted into storage hordes, and stock up on supplies.  
He could go and check on his deer pen and check the surrounding perimeter.  
Not impatiently waiting for Hiccup to return.

With that in mind, Jack got up. He needed to force himself to work, if not the day would go by in the blink of an eye. Nothing would change even if Hiccup did return. Or if he didn't…

Jack moved to his clothing stash, pulling out a pair of his favourite black cargo pants. They were a little worn in places, and had been reinforced with shin and knee pads and considerable amounts of duct tape that Jack had salvaged way back. He pulled on one layer after another, salvaging a comfortable pair of running shoes after his old ones were starting to let in the rain. The grips had been worn away as well. He grabbed his tool kit, his weapon pack and an emergency supply of food and fresh water, just in case he couldn't make it back to base.

This was what he should be doing. Remember why he was alive. Remember why he was fighting.

 _Fight to survive.  
_ _Survive to fight._

The perimeter was clear. The fences were still all intact, even after the couple of months that Jack had left this place as he had ventured further and further from his home. There were the odd breaks here and there, but they were small; barely big enough to allow small creatures through.  
Maybe Hiccup had even made one, to allow passage for his wolves, although Jack couldn't find any. It worried him slightly, that the predators had broken in so easily, but reminded himself that they had a Human helping them. Hiccup should get some credit at least.

Jack patched the breaks none-the-less, hiding the weaker points with foliage on both sides. As he ventured around, the boy stripped any mint plants and aloes that he could find. Any seeds and handfuls of berries were planted also, for future visits. Some were pocketed to spread elsewhere, as well as planted back at the Base. It always helped for more food for the Free-Breathers.

Jack visited the old gardens and orchards, stripping vegetable patches that had grown wild in his absence. He weeded the grounds and the grass that surrounded the fruit trees; picking the sweeter fruits to enjoy there and then. Medicinal plants were cultured and houses were revisited. Always.  
In case Jack missed something. Silverware, knickknacks. Tinned food, batteries. Even mundane things like bars of soap, toothpaste and hand mirrors. Treasures that Jack would take back to the base camp for the children and the others to appreciate, more than he could.  
Children's toys. Children's books. Tins of wall paints, crayons, paper. Stuffed toys and photo frames. Things that would make the base camp more homely.

Jack's old home town was a gold mine. It was one of the very few towns that had been, for some unknown reason, left untouched by the Rift Soldiers. Even now, so many years later, the place had been left to be reclaimed by the Earth.

Jack didn't know why. Or maybe, _he did_. But he wouldn't admit it to himself…

Even the deer pen, after all these months, was still intact. There were no breaks, no damage from trees or weather and all of the deer were happy and thriving. The vegetation in the football pitch was continuing to support the dietary needs and shelter the beasts, but still, Jack decided to cut down a few of the smaller saplings, to give the animals more room to roam. The deer greeted Jack when he dropped into the enclosure, like a long lost friend, begging for food and treats.  
The youth fed them leaves from the trees outside, counted them and petted them, before sending them on their way so that he could get to work. He stripped as much weeds from the field as he could, taking anything that might cause the deer harm. Any dead were buried before Jack climbed a growing Cedar tree and escaped from the pen to continue work.

He set up a snare near the old play park, growing wild in the years of absence of workers with lawnmowers. The rabbit population gave Jack plenty of meat for lunch. Jack skinned the creatures, taking bones for medicine, its meat as food and its fur for wrappings. Jack took the remainder of the animals and buried it near the roots of a nearby tree, covering the hole with fallen leaves before hiding it all under the earth. It was his own way of helping Mother Nature along; thanking her for helping him survive for so long. Besides, the earth helped mask the scent of rotting flesh, keeping out predators. And this way, any disease wasn't as likely to spread.

Hiccup still hadn't returned by midday. Jack had finished the tasks he had set for himself, and returned to the attic to unload his horde, met with the same still silence that he had left in. It was better not to dwell on it, the boy told himself, locking the attic window behind him, putting down his bag and unhooking his miniature crossbow from his wrist.  
He busied himself with storing the plants and seeds in his medicine pouch. He cut the rabbit meat and set it to boil on his makeshift stove, made in the skeleton of the chimney breast. Jack prepared vegetables and added them to the broth as well. He left the fire to burn till an ember, and set to work packing his bags to take more supplies to camp.

Anything he had collected or deemed useful to the others was pushed into the bottom: the books wrapped in plastic bags or small squares of tarpaulin. He'd made that mistake once, and several copies of good reads had become kindling and doodle paper.

Even when the stew was done, Hiccup hadn't returned.  
There was no hide or hair of him, nor his wolves. Jack wasn't worried. He was just… _lonely_.

The hideout was cold and empty after last night. The rafters were silent, the window only inviting in shallow Autumn breezes. It never had been, but now, with the sudden disappearance of the Brunette, it just seemed so uninviting.  
The boy couldn't stand it. He packed up his gear once more and took off.  
This time, for the lake.

On the way, he carried out his usual chores of searching for more medicinal herbs, and edible plants to keep up his strength. _Little and often.  
_ Jack kept an eye out for predator tracks. Hopefully none that would harm his deer. There was no such tracks, and the lake was clam and serene like usual. The current rainy season had forced the feeding river to flood its banks, and even the lake had risen several feet.  
Luckily, it lay on the other side of a shallow valley that Jack had dug out himself, meaning any excess water would flow past the town and not into it. It wouldn't do to flood the fields and drown his crops. Not when he wasn't there to help them survive.

Jack's usual favourite spot was flooded with rain water, so he found himself another; perched on the end of a fallen tree, the bows and branches giving way to show him the calm surface of the fresh water lake. Shoals of rainbow trout and river fish swam here, meaning Jack's afternoon of fishing was worthwhile. He didn't keep any though. He already had rabbit meat. The fish would just end up going off before he ate it…

The boy cast his eyes to the hill on the other side of the lake. On it, stood the shell of a house, still standing proud and well out of reach of the risen water levels. The garden wall was disguised beneath a protective cloak of vines and ivy. The garden gate was left open, as if inviting Jack inside. Through the gate, along the front path to the front door. Which hung from one hinge, carelessly laid blocking the lower window to the porch…

Inviting Jack inside, into the empty and destroyed house that was once his.

 _Empty_. But full of memories.

Painful and agonising memories of his baby sister, loving mother and Father, who had died long ago, but was still loved all the same. Memories of times before the war, where he and Emma would fish on the lake as he did now, catching minnows with nets and swimming in the waters in the spring and summer.  
Autumn time. Warming their toes by the fire after chasing each other through the falling leaves, creating large piles of golden leaves to jump in.  
Winter nights were spent in front of the TV, discussing school and friendships and the really irritating length of her hair that meant she couldn't plait it or style it like all the other girls in school.

When Jack would hug her tighter and tell her that she was beautiful the way she was. Inside and out. She didn't need to change her hair to prove anything. _"Don't be a sheep Emma. Don't follow everyone else. Strive to make your own path. Stand up and stand out."  
_ _"But what can I be if I'm not a sheep?"_

 _"Whatever you want to be?"  
_ _"I want to be a bird!"_

 _"A bird?"  
_ _"Yes, a bird. Then I can fly wherever I want, wherever I want. I can chase the sunset and travel to faraway places, just like Dad. Maybe I can find him, and bring him back home."  
_ _"Maybe. Anything's possible."_

 _"Hey Jack."  
_ _"Yeah?"  
_ _"What do you want to be?"_

 _"Hmm. I don't know. Maybe…"_

A splash on the lake's surface broke Jack's thoughts. He looked up to the sunset, listening to the echoes of Emma's words. The house stood still and silent.  
In the growing darkness, Jack could almost fool himself into thinking that all was right with the world and he could stroll around the bank and up the driveway. Mom would scold him for staying out so late but she would hug him and kiss him and tell him not to make her worry.  
Emma would be bouncing around the room, hyper on sweets she had nicked from Jack's super-secret supply, bugging him to play with her. But not before Mom calls them both to the dinner table. They would say grace and wish Father peace.  
They would eat happily and talk about their day. Jack would tell Mom of his day at school and Emma would show everyone what she had painted or made out of pasta and rainbow string.

 _And they would be happy. The three of them would be happy, and everything would be perfect in their complete little world._

With the threat of incoming cloud cover, Jack decided that he had had enough. Besides, the memories had made him feel sad and gloomy, and now he was just feeling mentally drained.  
But still Emma and Mom filled his mind. He wondered what the three of them would be doing now, if the Eradication had never happened.  
Emma would be in school by now. Jack, college. Mom would still be working as a waitress or bartender, doing odd jobs where she could. But she enjoyed it. She liked stacking books at the book shop. She liked changing bedsheets in the local hospital.  
Or maybe Mom had finally saved enough money to attend college and get her medical degree, like she always wanted. Maybe she was a trainee nurse by now. Maybe she had someone to fill the space that Dad had left.

Maybe Emma had found someone too. Someone who she could confess everything to. The other half of her heart. Hopefully Jack would like him. Or tease him and scare him a little to make sure he did really care for his baby sister.  
Jack could even have his own partner. Lover, fiancé. Perhaps even married, with a child on the way.  
The thought left a hole somewhere in Jack's chest.

 _But what if the Eradication had happened, and Jack had been able to save them.  
_ Emma and Mom would be waiting in the base camp, hoping he would be home soon…  
No they wouldn't. There wouldn't even be a base camp. Because Jack would've never survived on his own for five years. He would have his mom and his kid sister. They wouldn't have followed Jack's path.  
The three of them would probably still have been killed by the Rift, or taken to Pitch's empire. Because if Mom and Emma were still alive…

In truth, one that Jack would never truly admit to himself, he was thankful that his mother and sister had died when they did. At least neither had to live in this broken world.  
They died, deluded by their perfect paradise. There was no harm in living for as long as they did and dying the way they did. It was an easy life for them.  
As it was for everyone who died when the killing first began. Before everyone really knew what was happening. Before the panic could settle in, before the true fear could drown them…

Yes. It was better that Emma and Mom were no longer around.

That way, Jack did meet Aster and Tooth, which was intended. That way, Jack helped them free North from the bunker, controlled by the Rift, only to turn around and take it over for their base. That way, there was a home for the survivors. There was a resistance.

 _There was someone still fighting._

The path back to the attic was familiar, yet still difficult. The ground hadn't been able to dry out yet, meaning it was still muddy and slippery. The bag on Jack's back threatened to topple him many times, but he didn't fall. He continued on, ignoring the voice in his head to turn back.  
 _Just turn back and check. Maybe it is all just a dream.  
_ _Maybe they are alive, living in the house, waiting for you._

 _Just check…_

But every time Jack checked, the lights would be off and the house empty. Abandoned. As it always was.

He didn't check this time.

He continued on, finding the familiar road that would take him back to the edge of town. The boy's head was too filled with useless thoughts to be wary, to be listening out for the sound of approaching footsteps; be it predator or Rift. It didn't occur to him that he was out in the open, that anything could be watching him from the shelters of the darkness of the undergrowth.  
He didn't think he was in danger. He didn't sense the second presence watching him, with calculating eyes. He had been watching for a while. And even if the smell of fish had tempted him from his hiding place, he had resisted and continued to stalk the boy. It didn't matter if Hiccup trusted him.  
Toothless was still cautious….

Jack spun around, his knife out, his eyes wide as he caught sight of two amber orbs staring back at him. He had heard the sound; the hiss of grass, the cracking of a twig. He had seen the black wolf that was stalking him, pushed low to the ground, hiding in the shadows, trying not to be noticed.  
The creature cocked its head to one side, regarding the knife with distaste, although it was more curiosity when it turned its gaze to Jack.

"Is Hiccup back?" the boy asked, as if the wolf could respond to him. It did, in its own way; standing from its hiding spot. The creature brushed past Jack smoothly, a low rumble in its throat.  
Warning or something else, Jack couldn't tell. His eyes searched for the second. If Hiccup wasn't here, would the creatures attack?

Jack sensed the danger. The knife in his hand suddenly didn't seem enough. It was tiny, its only purpose meant to be for cutting fishing lines and whittling wood. Not killing a giant wolf creature armed with razor fangs and powerful jaws. An agile, deadly creature, to which Jack was at its mercy.  
But the wolf didn't strike. He lifted his ears, tilting its head up at the sound of a wolf cry. The second. The black wolf responded in kind, its head turned West.

 _"Is Hiccup back?"  
_ The creature perked his ears up at his master's name, turning back to fix the boy with a quizzical look. "Back at the hideout?" Jack mumbled, unconsciously lowering his knife as he turned to look at the roof of his old castle.

Suddenly, the boy began to walk. It was like he was being pulled back to the attic. Hiccup was waiting for him. It wouldn't be cold and lonely. They'd chat and laugh like they had the night before. It would be warm, and comforting. They would share stories…  
Jack skipped quickly across the uneven ground, racing the wolf back to town. They ran side by side, both leading and being led, showing each other the quickest paths down the hillside into town.  
They reached the hideout quickly, manoeuvring through the streets as if following a simple path. The black wolf slipped into the garden, disappearing into a hole in the rotten wood of the house foundations, as Jack headed for the tree. He climbed nimbly and quickly; his eluded thoughts doing nothing to tamper with his abilities to navigate his way up, between the branches.

Jack leapt onto the roof top, dropping into the attic, already grinning at the sight of the crouched figure waiting in the middle of the room.  
"And here I was thinking you got lost," Jack laughed, standing up, taking his bag from his back and settling it on the floor. He closed the windows, moving further into the attic. "Where did you go…?"  
But the boy's question faded on his lips when Hiccup stood up. There was a dark sticky substance on his right shoulder. A pungent smell clung to it like–

Hiccup turned to face the boy by the window, smiling softly underneath a bloody and muddy mask. Jack's eyes grew wide at the sight of the sizeable gash in the brunette's hairline. The blood traced lines down his chin, onto his leather armour.  
There were more marks covering his hands and arms.  
New bruises. New cuts and scrapes. There was a cut on his lip and one near the corner of his left eye.

"You're injured!" Jack wailed, rushing to Hiccup's side, pulling him closer so that he could inspect the wound. "It's nothing," Hiccup murmured with a smile, his eyes watching Jack's hands work calmly, pushing past Hiccup's hair, revealing the cut beneath.  
It was smaller than what Jack had first imagined, thankfully. But the amount of blood painting Hiccup's face like a Viking warrior was enough to make him panic nonetheless.

"It's not nothing, it looks serious," the boy pressed anyway, dragging Hiccup over to his supplies. "Just let me look at it."  
Jack forced Hiccup to sit in the middle of the room as he fetched candles and medicinal gear. Bandages, antiseptic and painkillers. He put a pot of fresh water on his make-shift stove and threw on kindling to get the flames on high.

"What happened?" Jack asked, lighting the candles. He placed them on a footstool next to Hiccup, giving himself light to work. He seemed to hesitate, as if debating whether or not to tell Jack.  
"Gun," the Brunette answered, his voice hollow. The white-haired boy turned silently, alert with fear.

"Rift?"  
Hiccup nodded, not offering anything more, simply watching quietly as Jack turned and fumbled for whatever was in his medicine box.  
The boy in question was trying not to show his fear as he thought about what he needed to do to stem the bleeding, trying not to think what it meant that Hiccup had been shot by the Rift.  
 _How close were they? Were they the same Rift that had hunted Jack all the way from the river in the North?_

Quickly, Jack rushed to the windows. He pulled down the blinds and double locked the entrance, all the while checking the street below for Rift. There was nothing. The street was empty and the night quiet.  
"They're all dead," Hiccup said quietly, watching Jack. He looked guilty. And he felt guilty, for making the boy panic. But he wasn't about to lie about what had happened.

"What were you doing getting so close?" Jack growled, snatching the hot water from the fire pit. He advanced on the brunette, sitting opposite him. Hiccup did nothing as Jack reached for an antiseptic wipe.

"Hunting," the teen began. "They weren't a large party, but they had dogs with them. We managed to take out the dogs first. Picking off the rest was meant to be easy."  
"Then what about all this?" Jack demanded, pointing at the wounds. Hiccup scowled. "They were better trained than the grunts we've taken out before. They were quicker and harder to take down. But we managed to," Hiccup smiled, as if that was all that mattered.  
"You should've avoided them," Jack said, narrowing his eyes at the bullet trail. " _Hypocrite_."

The wound was superficial. The burn of the bullet's path had sealed some of the blood anyway, giving less work for Jack. He washed the wound and put a bandage on it to be safe.  
"I don't need–"  
"It's for infection," Jack growled, pushing slightly harder than he should have. Hiccup flinched but let the matter drop.

"I didn't mean to get myself hurt. I was just taking on Rift, like I've always done," he said, setting his jaw in a straight line as Jack began to wipe away the blood from the head wound. "You're an idiot for doing that. You've could've easily died. Don't just go around, throwing your life away."

Jack couldn't tell where his anger was coming from. It wasn't justified.  
Hiccup had every right to do what he wanted. He had no obligations to Jack, or to anyone, to avoid the Rift.  
Jack had no right, because he did the same damn thing.

"And are you not the same?" Hiccup challenged, bringing up the very thoughts Jack had as he lowered Hiccup's hands into the warm water to wash the cuts there.  
"You deliberately attack the Rift. You break into their encampments and salvage what you can. Are you not risking your own life as much as I am risking mine?"  
"I can. I have no one that will miss me if I die."

Hiccup's eyes darkened. "And am I not the same?"  
" _Of course not!"_ Jack didn't realise he was shouting. He didn't realise he was on his feet, glaring down at the teen, who rose to his feet just as Jack had done. "What do you think I would feel if you died?" The echo of words faded slowly. Jack's anger faded too, at the sudden realisation of what he had just confessed. It sounded like they were together.  
"I- well, I mean, you have your brothers to look out for. What would they do if you died and left them alone?" Jack's blush was all too obvious. Even in the dim candlelight Hiccup would be able to see the redness in his ears. He could feel the heat himself. Even when he turned from the other teen, he couldn't hide the embarrassment he felt–  
"I'm sorry." Hiccup spoke quietly and softly, leaning in as he wrapped his arms around Jack, pulling him into a hug. "I didn't meant to scare you. It's just, you said that this place was like a second home to you and that you'd do anything to protect it… I just wanted to help." Blushing and embarrassment aside, Jack forgave Hiccup pretty quickly after that.

The white-haired teen worked in silence to prepare the food, reheating the stew. He leant Hiccup some normal clothes, giving the boy some privacy so that he could change out of his armour, busying himself with food and clearing up the medicine from earlier. He even set aside some deer meat for Hiccup to take down to the wolves.  
He was acting normal.

Everything was normal. It was fine.  
 _Everything was fine..._

Everything, was not fine. Jack was suddenly hyper aware of Hiccup. He could hear him, shuffling about, placing his clothes in a pile, ready to wash himself down with the warm water and towel Jack had provided.

The boy was aware of the urges to look. But why? Was this because of his loneliness? After so long, was his heart just latching onto the first human that came close?

Something told Jack it was more than that. But nothing told him exactly what. Like an indescribable need. An itch that just got worse the more Jack tried to ignore it, trying to do nothing about it….

"Smells good." Hiccup appeared from behind Jack, sniffing at the food inquisitively.  
"Careful jackass," Jack hissed, stepping back. "It's dangerous! Be careful."  
The anger wasn't real. It was Jack's embarrassment again. But nonetheless, the bare-skinned Hiccup backed off, laughing under his breath.

"Is this for Toothless and Cloud?" he asked, snatching up a chunk of uncooked meat, sniffing it inquisitively. "Yeah. Take it down to them whilst I plate up ours."

* * *

The weather was growing colder. Chilling winds howled from the North, bringing the cold with them. It wasn't inviting, persuading Jack that another day spent cooped up in the attic wasn't too bad of an idea.  
It was warm there, with duvets and the fire, and his books to keep him company. As well as Hiccup. Jack had expected the boy to be gone by first light, as he had the day before, but a lazy day was just as inviting to the Brunette as it was to the white-haired teen.

Neither of them mentioned the Rift of the End of the World just beyond the window panes. Instead, the two relaxed with little to do. They lay amongst the duvet pile together, noses buried in different books. Jack reread his old favourites whilst Hiccup discovered new adventures. At first, he was hesitant, unable to get comfortable, but soon, he was lost in the stories of magic and secrets, trolls and flying broomsticks….

Jack enjoyed distractions like these. He remembered when he would lose himself in books, just to forget. If only for a moment…  
But for some reason, Jack couldn't relax. He couldn't keep calm. He couldn't lay still. He kept fidgeting, his legs kicking out, his hands trying to find something to toy with….  
Jack forced himself up, out from the sanctuary of warm bedding. He climbed into a hoodie, smiling at the obliviousness of Hiccup; still nose deep in the literature of his choosing.

Packing. That's what he could do. Ready himself for the journey ahead. Jack had mentioned the camp and Hiccup, inquisitive, had asked if he could go as well.  
They were heading out tomorrow. The least he could do was start to take extra supplies to camp for the survivors; clothes and shoes that were too small, books and texts that he knew off by heart.  
Treasures and trinkets for everyone. Medicine supplies. As much as he could pack.  
No food. Jack could pick that up on the way. Hunting on the go. Making sure there was less to carry, as not to wear himself out. Did what he always did. Survive _to fight. Fight to survive…_

"What are you doing?" the sudden question startled Jack at first. It seemed as though Hiccup had realised Jack was no longer distracting himself with the novels, looking to where he sat, surrounded by supplies which he was trying to fit into a backpack that was not going to fight everything…  
"I'm packing ready to set out," Jack explained, turning away from the inquisitive green eyes. They bore into him, asking too many silent questions. Hiccup voiced none, but it was clear to the teen that the boy wasn't satisfied with the short answer.  
He continued to watch as Jack put the remainder of the clothes into the bottom of the bag, followed by the books, wrapped in plastic bags in hopes to save them from bad weather conditions, should Jack face any on his journey back to camp.

"So how long does it take to get to this camp in the mountains?" Hiccup asked, unravelling the duvet, emerging from the blanket cocoon. He yawned and stretched, putting his book back on the shelf, next to the remainder of the collection; worn yet well kept.  
Jack watched him slowly, trying to detect the tone of his voice.

"One weeks, as long as the weather holds out," he replied, packing the rest quickly.  
"We'll be following the river upstream until the waterfalls. It gets harder as we go and if rains hits, then it can push as back to three, maybe four weeks. That's why I want to head out soon. If this is the start of the bad weather, I want to cross as much ground as possible before it gets too muddy and hard to walk on."

Hiccup nodded as if he understood what Jack was saying. He lay back on the duvet, staring at the ceiling, thinking to himself. Jack left him to it; heading towards his clothing trunk for new trousers and tops.

"You're so calm about all of this," came Hiccup's voice; a thoughtful murmur, said simply as an observation. "I have to be," Jack replied, not looking up from his task. "If I wasn't, then I wouldn't have survived this long."  
"Always on your own."  
"For the last two years, yes."

" _Why_?"

The sad question caught Jack off guard. He kept his head turned, his head filled with her voice, screaming over and over, over and over…  
"It's better this way," Jack replied bluntly. "No one to slow me down. No one to get in my way."  
"Sounds lonely."  
Hiccup had the precision of a sniper. He shot at all of Jack's weak points, hitting him where it hurt the most. The same thoughts that tortured him constantly.

"It is. But it is for the best."  
"But you still worry about them. Your family back at camp."  
Jack nodded. "Of course. They are my family." He could feel himself getting bothered by Hiccup's words. It sounded like the teen was trying to imply something. The questions he asked. The words he used.  
Of course Jack was allowed to worry. He was allowed to think about them time to time. Jack was allowed to let his mind wander; to recall memories of camp and his family before, if only to hold onto his humanity.  
He could feel himself fading sometimes. An instinct rising deep within him. Kill.  
 _Kill_.

Memories of his family saved him. Memories of their love.  
Jack clung onto those memories as long as he could. He returned when he heard news of the others. He returned with survivors and goods. Information. Treasures. Anything to help them out, to help them survive.

 _Survive to Fight.  
_ _Fight to kill.  
_ _Kill the Rift._

 _Kill the Rift_ \- "Jack?"  
Hiccup's voice broke through the boy's thoughts. His words sharp, his tone harsh, causing Jack to flinch.

 _What is this?  
_ 'I don't know,' Jack admitted to the voice in his head. The instinct deep inside of him.  
 _He's breaking us._

"Jack? Are you okay?" The boy stood, moving closer to where Jack stood, shaking.  
 _He's breaking us. We won't be able to survive if he breaks us!  
_ "Are you okay? You look pale."  
"I'm always pale," Jack said in forced laughter, flinching at the sight of Hiccup's extended hand. The scars on his thumb, the burns on his palm, the wounds on his skin.

 _We have to break him. Break him first!  
_ "Jack?"  
 _Before he breaks us!_

Jack could feel Hiccup's hand hovering just above his own, hesitation keeping his hands at bay.

 _Break him._

The sound of creaking floorboards as he took another step. "Jack?" Closer.

 _Break him!_

"Jack!"

 _BREAK HIM!_

"It is lonely. But it is for the best," he repeated, aware of his clenched fist.  
Hiccup's fingers ghosted over Jack's skin, trying to reach out to him, but something keeping him at bay.  
Jack's darkness. His unspoken desire to keep the boundaries. To keep the walls around him.

"I've got to keep packing," Jack said, shaking away the darkness from inside him. He needed to keep focused. He needed to keep his head straight. The apocalypse seemed to be doing something to Jack's head.  
Since Hiccup's appearance, he hadn't been right. He wasn't as observant. He wasn't being careful. And that needed to change. If not, he was going to be caught out, and killed.  
And worse, he maybe dragging Hiccup down with him.

The Brunette seemed to sense the change in Jack. He stepped away, unsure what to do now that Jack had resumed packing. He was muttering to himself, his eyes sharp, anger clear on his face.  
At Hiccup? Was it something he had said? _Maybe_.

Jack was used to being alone for so long. He went at his own pace. And here, Hiccup was messing it up. He was asking for things, doing things, saying things. Useless things.  
Hiccup was getting ahead of himself. It had been so long since he saw another Human, not in the binds of the Rift, or those so contorted by this new world they were no longer human...

He was using Jack simply to revert himself back to being normal, just as he had dreamed for so long…

Things wouldn't be normal. Things couldn't go back to the way they were.  
Hiccup was just deluding himself. Stringing Jack along in the pretence that everything thing was fine and everything was normal. Raising his own hopes that maybe even his village had travelled this far and were living in the base that Jack had founded with the others. He taught himself to believe them dead, but still was buckling at the faintest glimmer of hope.

"Why did you leave the base?" Hiccup asked, taking off the clothes that Jack had given to him. A gift he couldn't accept…  
"Reasons," came the boy's reply. Blunt and angry.  
Anger at who? Hiccup, of course. For prying.

Trying to make conversation was an excuse. He was prying and he shouldn't.  
So why couldn't he keep himself from asking questions. Because he was curious, that was why. He wanted to know more about Jack. The boy intrigued him. Not only was he the first normal-Human he had seen in what felt like forever, but there was something about him.  
Something that pulled Hiccup closer. Jack felt it too, although, he refused to admit it to himself. Something that had his eyes glancing over his shoulder at the boy helping to fill a second backpack with what was unable to fit into the first.

But the white-haired teen suppressed the thoughts with excuses, just like he always did. He was lonely.  
Hiccup was the closest. That was why he was latching onto him. When they went to camp, Jack would leave him there. No. Hiccup would want to stay. He would be reunited with, not necessarily his family, but he would return to a society.  
Humans that created and preserved a community, hidden from the rest of the dying world.

 _And when Hiccup decides to stay, Jack would leave._

He would return to reality and everything will return to the way it was. The way it has been for two years. Where Jack knew who he was and what he had to do.  
It was painful for Jack to accept that. Finally, after so long, he was no longer on his own.  
But if Jack threw away his sanity and accepted Hiccup, the separation would be so much more heart breaking.

Jack wasn't allowed happiness. He had stolen so many others, so what right to happiness did he have? None.  
That was why Jack had to take Hiccup to camp. And leave him there.

Even travelling with the boy to camp was something Jack was ready to abandon. He didn't need to travel with Hiccup. He could just send him in that direction and hope that the boy reached-  
No. Jack wanted to go. He needed to go back. After a whole year.  
Besides, North and Sandy would be appalled that Jack was so close yet refused to return home, sending Hiccup in his place.

Hiccup wouldn't go anyway. And he probably wouldn't be able to find the base. It was well hidden and well-guarded. The others probably wouldn't trust him.  
After growing Rift activity this far South, they may believe him to be a spy and hurt him.  
It wasn't their fault. Fear made people do crazy things.

So Jack would take Hiccup to the base. Jack would do what he could do for Hiccup in the short time that they would travel. He'd focus. He would get serious again and make sure that they reached the base.  
 _Spot the enemies lurking in the shadows.  
_ _Avoid the traps.  
_ _Kill the nightmare soldiers that plagued the land…_

Jack could feel it returning. The fear. The deep panic.  
He didn't want to travel with Hiccup longer than he needed too. He didn't want it to happen again. He didn't want the same to happen to Hiccup.

Jack didn't want to be responsible for another life.

It was another excuse. Always, always excuses.  
Why can't he and Hiccup be together? But, then again, why should they?  
Why should Jack be allowed to keep Hiccup with him? Just because Jack is lonely?  
It was a very selfish reason. But the truth.

Partial truth. Even Jack hadn't figured out the deeper feelings he felt. Buried deep inside of him. Similar to those that he felt for the others. For his family.  
Similar, yet different.

Something _strong_.  
Something _dangerous_.

Jack hadn't figured it out. Neither had Hiccup.  
They thought of it as something different to what it truly was. Maybe, if they had realised what it was sooner, then things wouldn't be the way they were now.  
Maybe things wouldn't have gone so wrong...

* * *

Light rainfall blessed the earth the following day. It started late at night, after the boys had tucked themselves into the duvet pile and slept till sunrise.  
The ground had become soaked, making the ground muddy. It was slippery and difficult to walk on, and pushed Jack and Hiccup onto the longer grass, which soaked their trousers and boots. An unpleasant sensation as they trekked up the shallow incline of the hill.

Toothless and Cloudjumper didn't seem too fussed by the weather conditions. Instead, they seemed to be more concerned of the packs that they wore on their backs, courtesy of Hiccup, who decided the pair could help take supplies when Jack voiced that he would probably make a second trip to gather the remaining gifts.  
After Hiccup pointed out the backpack he was trying to stuff them all in wasn't big enough. He had suggested his brothers carry supplies too, stating it was simply the case of adjusting a human backpack to fit a wolf; something that was apparently simple in itself.  
Jack saw nothing simple about it, but let the boy do what he wanted. He had the packs spare and plenty of belts that did the job wonderfully. Hiccup had a knack for it; explaining, with a blush on his cheeks, that before the End of the World, he wanted to be an inventor.  
"I even made this," he had said, gesturing to his metal attachment, now replacing his left foot. At the comment, his voice seemed to die in his throat. "And here I thought Toothless made it for you," Jack had laughed, trying to cover up the awkwardness.  
It worked, and Hiccup returned to his task once more, with nothing more than a smile. It was genuine, but it was sad at the same time.

Jack didn't pry. He liked his own privacy. Hiccup obviously felt the same.

Jack left Hiccup to coax his brothers into wearing the packs whilst he suited himself up in more protective wear. He found Hiccup some new wrist guards, replacing the old leather ones that he had worn for the past three years.  
It seemed convincing the wolves to cooperate was a more harrowing task than actually making the packs, as both Toothless and Cloud kept trying to bite the reigns off.

Jack laughed at the little display, slipping into the Attic once more. Leaving was just like Jack had always done. Out of the window, locking it behind him. Down the tree and into the garden.  
Along the abandoned street, leading the way for Hiccup and the wolves to follow.

The rain filled the silence, solving the need for conversation. They walked in silence, with Jack up front, setting a steady pace. The group reached the edge of town, escaping the fortress walls by slipping under the fence.  
Through the undergrowth, following the river Westwards. Down, into the valley, over the old bridge and into dense vegetation.

The old main roads were mainly obscured by overgrown tree and plants, but some routes were still useable. These were used, not often, but often enough, by Rift soldiers and Raiders, kept clear by the need to travel with convoys.  
The roads laid out like that for miles, meaning that Jack and Hiccup needed only follow them through the valleys. The hike was spent this way for three days, camping deep in the undergrowth when night fell.  
Food was hunted in the early hours of the morning. Rabbit, birds, wild dogs. Cooked meat and forest plants to snack on as they walked.

Jack appreciated Hiccup's company. It made the journey less arduous.  
Cloud and Toothless made it easy to hunt. He and Hiccup barely did anything more than starting the fire and cooking the meat. Cloud and Toothless of course ate their raw, but the odd bit of warm meat was never something passed up by either predator.

The rain let up after the third day. Cold winds still blew, but the sun was warm and it beat down endlessly. With little cloud cover, Jack and Hiccup suffered under the heat, making their journey a little unpleasant, with sweat and shortness of breath.  
And by that time, the road ended, meaning their trek would only get more difficult from there on out.

The group made their own path through the undergrowth, following stream trails, under and over fallen trees, past ferns and bramble bushes that disguised rocks under mossy blankets. One time too many, Jack slipped, catching his cold and rain worn hands on the rough ground. He cursed with each stumbled step, his cheeks growing hot when he did, embarrassed at his inability to walk cross-country.  
It wasn't entirely is fault. Jack's head was a little preoccupied with the thoughts of what path to take. Straight to camp, or a detour. If the Rift were really close by, or maybe even Raiders, they could attack the camp if they followed the pair.

Jack would be leading them straight there. It would be his fault. And if he took a detour, he could give himself more time with Hiccup alone. Because he didn't want to be on his own.  
But that was selfish. And what if something went wrong as Jack guided him towards camp. The rolling thunder clouds should've been some sort of clue that the path ahead would not be as comfortable as the path previously followed...

* * *

"I hope this storm breaks soon," Hiccup murmured, looking up into the green canopy. The heavy rainfall had forced the boys and wolves to the den of an upturned tree. The roots, entangled with soil and brambles provided shelter from the weather.  
"Probably," came Jack's half-hearted reply. He wasn't quite focused. A pain behind his eyes made it a bother to think, let alone hold a conversation with another human being. Hiccup kept on with small talk, mostly once sided as Jack nodded and answered with one syllable words, rubbing his brow and trying to concentrate.

"I'll be back," he said standing up slowly, interrupting Hiccup, ignoring the questions that followed him. The wolves raised their heads, watching Jack wade out into the wilderness, remaining with Hiccup in the dryness provided by the tree.  
No words were exchanged, but silently, Cloudjumper stood. He stretched, nuzzled Hiccup quickly, before trotting out into the rain, following the figure of the white-haired boy.

The downpour stunted the distance Jack could see. The uneven ground of the wet mountain forest would make it nearly impossible to run... but Jack wasn't thinking about that. He wasn't thinking about anything as he wandered through the bracken, heading in an upwards direction. Uphill.  
He hadn't noticed Cloud following him as he gazed out across the landscape, noticing the river flowing swiftly away from them. They were nearing the mountain valley.

Somehow, they had got closer to the base than Jack had predicted. It saddened him a little, to think that his time with Hiccup was drawing to a close.  
Anxious feelings pooled in his stomach. Nausea at the thought of visiting his family. Seeing their faces and the hidden doubts and accusations behind their eyes.  
Jack didn't want to see it again. But he knew he had to. To take Hiccup to somewhere safe.

Lost in his thoughts, Jack continued to wander. Past fallen trees and knots of tussock. Past berry bushes and snares and traps and-  
A gunshot echoed out through the valley. A rifle shot. The empty echoes resonated off the hills. Birds fled to the skies in panic. Creatures scattered as an animals' cry of pain joined the echoes of the gunshot.

Jack ducked into the ground, seeking refuge in a ditch created by a fallen tree. He hand dropped to his side….  
There was nothing there. Jack looked down to his empty hand.

 _No gun.  
_ _No bag.  
_ _No food._

All he had was his crossbow, still mounted to the frame on his arm. The boy's mind went blank. He didn't have a bag or a pack. He didn't have his emergency supply of food, and the only weapons he carried was his crossbow and a switchblade.

Jack was out in the open.  
 _And he was completely defenceless._

Jack had never done anything like this before. Not in all the time he had survived on his own.

 _Fight to survive.  
_ _Survive to fight._

Something was changing him. Changing within him.  
And the silver boy knew what it was. That _something_ in him.  
The hole that had been filled by Hiccup since they had first met on the road that led to his castle. The first words spoken like old friends, the stories shared over a gesture of kindness in the form of a tin of fruit.  
The loneliness that had been stamped out, like a bad nightmare. The closeness that comforted him. The soft words, the gentle smiles.  
The feelings that things could change.

Jack's life could change. That he no longer had to look over his shoulder like some prey being stalked...

Jack knew things wouldn't change. But being with Hiccup, it had clouded his judgement. He wasn't thinking straight. He wasn't thinking at all.  
His head was too tangled in thoughts to realise that what he was doing was dangerous. He was being selfish. He was endangering someone else, even after Jack had sworn so many times that he wouldn't…

Jack forced himself to concentrate, positioning the crossbow, loading it, his other hand gripping the hilt of his switchblade as he pulled it from the sheath in his boot.  
Beside him, footsteps thundered, just as a beige blur slipped past him, ducking into the ditch beside the teen. Jack's initial reaction was to attack the wolf, but Cloud must've expected that. He was well out of arms reach, growling low in his throat.

Jack recognised him and turned away, trying to find the true source of danger. But a tightness around his waist pulled him back. Cloud had taken his hoodie in his maw and was dragging him back, deeper into the ditch, beneath the stray branches of saplings and holly bushes. The sharpness scratched at Jack's skin, drawing thread lines of blood.  
"Stop," he hissed, batting the creature away. But a noise silenced him.

Calls that echoed in the old forest. Men laughing loudly, shouting to others who joined in. A pack of Hunters closing in on their prey. _How did they get so close?_

Jack let himself be pulled further into the ditch, his eyes focused on the entrance, listening to the far off voices. Rift or Raiders, he didn't know, but they weren't voices he knew.  
No one from camp. They weren't as open about their activities as these people. They hunted stealthily. They worked quietly as not to draw attention to themselves. Not like these...

Jack could see them in the distance. Between the trees and the thin layer of mist from rainfall, he could see Humans walking towards him. Not directly, but their general direction would take them past his hiding place.  
The boy lay deadly silent, listening to the hushed growl of Cloud, who had laid his body beside the teen, sheltering himself from the enemies' sight.

Jack didn't know how many there were. He didn't know if they would spot him. He didn't know if he could protect themselves if he did.  
 _Would they spot Hiccup? Or would Hiccup attack them himself? Hiccup…._

Being with Hiccup, as they were now…  
They weren't that close. Or, it was better to say they weren't as close as they could be.  
Jack knew they could be closer if he let his walls down, more than he had, but there was still that little bit of sanity that told him not to.  
Something he should be holding onto like a lifeline.  
Something that he had abandoned so easily.  
Something he shouldn't forget so easily, because that was what had kept Jack alive all these years.

 _Fighting to survive.  
_ _Surviving to fight._

Hiccup was dangerous. Jack knew this.  
To Jack, and to himself. Because if he continued to affect the boy the way he was doing, neither would survive.  
Rift or Raiders. Predators or Pitch. It didn't matter.  
Jack would make a mistake. He always did. And if it wasn't Jack taking the punishment, Hiccup would be the one to face the consequences.  
He could get _hurt_.

He could _die_.

Jack slowed his breathing, crouching lower into the damp soil. He didn't want to be responsible for Hiccup's death. He had to buck up and pay attention. He had to look after himself and not become a burden. He had to abandon the Brunette as soon as he could, for both of their sakes….

Jack raised his left hand, lining his eye with the sights on his crossbow, his fingers twitching to trigger the bolt. He waited, counting the seconds it took for the Raiders to pass.  
Somewhere in Jack's head, he was thankful they weren't Rift, but that didn't mean too much. Raiders could be just as violent. They were just as much an enemy as the Rift and far more unpredictable.

The seconds passed by slowly. With every footstep, the rivals moved closer. Closer to Jack's hiding spot. Closer to revealing him…

 _Attack first,_ the voice in his head told him. Attack _first and take them out. If they find us they'll kill us.  
_ _'No. Wait,'_ Jack thought to himself, ignoring the other that told him he was making the wrong choice. ' _If they see us, they'll shoot to kill. We'll have no chance,'_ he insisted.  
Jack's trigger finger twitched. He could feel himself wavering.  
 _If we shoot first, while they still don't know where we are, we can win. Pick them off slowly._

Jack felt something inside him agree. He felt his weight shift, feel himself push away from the dampness of the soil. He laid his hand on the bark of the tree, aiming towards the back of a Raider, too busy laughing with another who was idly swinging the corpse of a pheasant. An easy target.

 _Shoot now._

Jack counted the five men, letting out a slow sigh, calming himself. He closed one eye as he aimed at the back of the man's neck.

 _Shoot now._

Jack leaned into the tree, letting his body relax, listening to the sound of the rain. It would provide cover. He could win if he picked them off slowly.

 _Shoot now!_

Cloudjumper's whimper stopped Jack. He nudged the boy's elbow, pulling his focus from the men. Realising what he was doing was close enough to suicide, Jack ducked back down into the ditch.  
Cloud laid his head onto the boy's lap, a deep rumbling in his throat. The teen was hesitant about the gesture, but he didn't hate it. He let his own arms lay around the wolf's neck, nuzzling his face into the bushy fur.

 _Weak_ , the voice scolded. _You can't defend yourself, What makes you think you'll be able to defend Hiccup? You'll just get him killed.  
_ _Just like how you killed Tooth. You'll be responsible for his death too._

 _'Shut up,'_ Jack bit back, closing his eyes.

 _More blood on your hands. Another life that you will steal. How many will you kill before you realise that you are nothing but a burden. Worse than the enemies you fight…_

Jack ignored the voice. He scrunched up his eyes and breathed in deeply, smelling the earthy scent of the forest. The warmth and the wetness of the evergreen woods. It calmed him.  
He could feel the monster in his chest retreating back into the darkness, where it couldn't hurt anyone. The boy only hoped that it would remain there.


End file.
